


three years pass

by thelastavenger



Category: Avengers, Marvel
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 15:11:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18449135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastavenger/pseuds/thelastavenger
Summary: three years have passed since the events of Infinity War and Tony Stark is still searching for a way to undo what Thanks did, despite his memory of the events fading.





	three years pass

**Author's Note:**

> sorry lads...I cried writing it so idk how it’s gonna feel to read it

Three years had passed and there was still no sign of a way to undo what Thanos did. New York City was bleak; empty of all that once used to thrive there. Thor and Rocket were in some other Cosmos searching for Thanos; they thought that they could appeal to his humanity. All the luck they’d had so far left Tony still wondering where they were, with no sign of how long they would be. 

Tony had returned to Earth after fixing his suit with an emergency vibranium repair device he had originally crafted for Peter. It was the only thing left of Peter. After. 

As soon as he’d taken a step into his condo, the worst case scenario began to play out in his head; it was cold. Lifeless, dark, and cold. 

A building once so full of love and possibility now seemed to present only a memory of what could have been, and everywhere Tony went wrong. 

The door to the balcony was open - the city wind gusting in, throwing the curtains up, testing the strength of the rail hooks. As long as he will live, Tony won’t ever forget the awful whistling sound the wind made as it intruded his home. He sped over and pulled the door closed - a deafening thud sounding as his strength fought the howling winds. 

He didn’t dare call out for Pepper. Part of him thought she must be out getting groceries, the other part knew the truth; and the silence would confirmed his worst fears, as much as he wished it meant something else. Everything that had been sat on the humble coffee table and the kitchen bar had been blown to the floor along with a collection of leaves from the shrubs on their balcony except one thing; a note, folded delicately and placed on the bar beneath a paperweight, labelled ‘Tony’. 

He picked it up and flipped it open, finding a scribbled note on the reverse, written in sharpie with the rushed yet careful touch that only Pepper seemed to manage. 

All of your frantic talk about dreams got to me. I got to thinking, what the hell? I’d been afraid of my suspicions because I didn’t know how you’d react, but I’m a week or so late, so I took a test, literally just out of silly curiosity, expecting nothing. Turns out we’re expecting. How crazy is that?! You should add “prophet” to your list of growing skills and abilities. I’m going upstate for a conference soon; I couldn’t bear to keep this to myself, and since you weren’t answering my calls I figured I’d leave this in case you make it home before I do.   
I love you. Call me.   
P x 

Pepper, along with the ghost of Tony’s child that never was, were gone. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, she wasn’t still upstate. 

As long as he will live, the wind isn’t the only thing he’ll never forget. The feeling of having all of the air knocked out of his chest. The feeling of the floor being ripped from beneath him. The deafening silence broken only by his sobs. He wished he could forget - a wish that began to materialise as time passed. 

They had been warned, those that survived. Warned that the memories of those who died that day would fade if they weren’t brought back in time. Tony wouldn’t be surprised if Thor and Rocket had simply ended up on their own course, forgetting their initial purpose. 

Three years later and Tony’s pursuit of revenge slowly dwindled as his memories of Pepper slowly began to fade. He clung to the few things he remembered for certain; her long blonde hair, her perfume, and that damned necklace. 

In Brooklyn, not twenty blocks over from Tony, Steve lay in bed, sobbing. He found himself wondering if this was how Bucky had felt all of those years of torture, of mind control, of memory erasure. Had Bucky ever been in this state?   
Crying, desperately clinging onto memories of a man whose face was fading from his memory? Desperately trying to keep his love from slipping away, Steve rocked himself back and forward, whispering the words Bucky had spoken to him so long ago, in a time before either of them could have imagined where their lives would lead. 

“ ‘til the end of the line. “ 

Distant memories of tangled limbs and stolen kisses, forbidden by society or position. Escaping to the movie theatre, the only place they found they could hold hands without judgement, a place where no one seemed to notice. Their dusty Brooklyn apartment that, despite its location within a rat infested building on the Lower West Side, they had made into a home. 

Aunt May had given up on handing out missing person posters some time after Tony told her what had happened. She spent a few days in denial - pinning the posters wherever she could, telling herself Peter would be back - but he wouldn’t be. Tony had made that clear. However, in the same breath he’d told Aunt May she’d be unlikely to see her last living relative again, Tony also promised her he would do everything he could to bring Peter back. Why, then, is Aunt May now sitting on a couch in front of a television surrounded by empty frames, having removed photos because she couldn’t remember who the strange boy in them was?   
Peter’s door remains locked; May had been telling her visitors that it’s just storage. Maybe she said it so much, that she began to believe it. 

She hasn’t unlocked that door in two years. 

Now, Tony doesn’t see her anymore. Partially because the pain of her forgetting was too much for him to handle, but mostly because the guilt he felt at the fact he’d failed felt worse. Way worse.


End file.
